LeClerc 01 - Autumn Ecstasy (23 page)

Bear turned his back, stepped into his pants and laced them closed. Grabbing his shirt, he pulled it over his head as he walked toward the table.

“I have to check my traps today.” He sat down and reached for the plate she was holding out to him. “I may not make it back tonight.”

Linsey hid the shudder she felt run through her. Twice Bear had not made it back home before dark, and she had spent long, lonely horn’s sitting in a chair, staring at the door, willing him to come home. Every noise became magnified in her imagination as time seemed to stand still. When she’d finally heard him calling to be let in, she had been clumsy in her haste to remove the guard bar from the door. Her eyes drank in the very sight of him, and she folded her arms over her waist to stop herself from wrapping them around his neck and never letting go.

Linsey played with the food on her plate, pushing it from one side to the other, the taste suddenly turning her stomach. She stood and scraped the plate into a waste pot.

“Thought you were starving?” Bear asked, watching her closely.

“Guess I wasn’t as hungry as I thought.” Linsey shrugged, trying to act natural.

He tried to eat, but the food seemed to lodge in his throat. His free hand, resting on the table beside the plate, knotted into a tight fist. He had to put some space between them, to have time to try to ease the anguish that was tearing him apart. Finishing his coffee, Bear pushed away from the table.

He prepared to leave as Linsey cleaned the table, washing the plates and utensils and putting them neatly back into their place. She carefully kept her eyes turned from his, knowing he’d read her fear, and tried to tell herself she’d kept him away from his traps long enough. Spring would come, and he would not have the furs to sell. He was a trapper, and he couldn’t do his job if he had to worry about her.

Bear put on his hat and coat, shouldered his pack and pulled his gloves on. At the door, he reached for his rifle and cradled it in his arms.

“I may be gone for a couple of days,” he said gruffly, still facing the door.

“All right.” Linsey stood facing the fire, her back to his.

“Keep the door barred.”

“Yes.”

“Stay inside. It’s too cold for you to be out long, and I don’t want to have to worry about you falling into another drift.”

“Be safe,” she whispered.

Bear reached for the rope latching the door.

Linsey heard it open; a sob clogged her throat.

Had he looked, Bear would have seen the loneliness and fear etched on her face, but all he was capable of seeing was the specter of spring.

Had she looked, Linsey would have seen the desolation carving his features to stone, but all she knew was that he was leaving her, and she didn’t want him to go.

Leaning the rifle against the wall, Bear turned and held his arms out to Linsey, who spun around and flew into them. Their lips met in a kiss almost savage in its intensity, tongues dueling for supremacy, bodies as close as Bear’s heavy coat would allow. Linsey wrapped her arms around his neck, and he lifted her off her feet, one strong arm around her shoulders, the other under her bottom. When the need for air forced them to separate, she buried her face in his neck, while he rested his cheek on her hair.

There was no need for words as they clung together. Finally, slowly, Bear lowered her feet to the ground and gently pulled her arms down to her sides. With a feather-light touch, he caressed her cheek, then turned abruptly, grabbed his rifle and walked out the door.

Linsey watched until he was out of sight, waiting for him to turn for a final wave. He kept walking … and never looked back.

This would be her life if she stayed in the wilderness. She would watch him walk away and leave her alone, sometimes for days at a time. Linsey briefly thought of the friends she would probably never see again, the parties and galas she would not attend, the shops and libraries she could not visit.

She turned to the one-room cabin with its dirt floor. Contentment filled her as never before. Yes, she thought, she would miss her friends, the parties, the shops. But she could live happily without them.

She knew she’d only be existing if she left the wilderness. She had found her home, her life. Bear.

From the angle of the glaring winter sun, Bear knew it was mid-afternoon. He had not stopped since he’d left the cabin, and had put many miles between himself and Linsey. His mind had been blank except for his visions of her. More than once he almost turned around and retraced his steps, but he convinced himself that he needed this time away — time to decide what he was going to do when spring arrived and she asked again to be taken home.

“Ho the trail!”

Bear was startled out of his thoughts by the bellowing yell around the bend. He realized it was another traveler using the trail who knew it was better to announce your presence than to find yourself facing an unfriendly rifle.

“Ho!” Bear bellowed back as an acknowledgment.

Even though he had not seen him since the winter before, Bear instantly recognized the man.

“Keeping your hair?” Bear asked.

“What there is left of hit!” Kaleb Smith replied with a chuckle.

“They could start on your face next.”

Kaleb stroked the beard that hung down to the middle of his chest. “Yep. Least ways they’d get somethin’!”

Bear was anxious to move on, but Kaleb motioned that he wanted to talk. Bear knew Kaleb was a man of few words, and with the temperature well below freezing, it would be far from comfortable to spend much time standing around. However, when Kaleb invited himself to walk along with him, Bear reluctantly agreed.

“I was on my way to your cabin. Had me a powerful need to check on that little gal I left there.”

“Why did you leave her with me?” Bear could almost hate Kaleb for causing the problems he faced.

“I had things to do and needed someplace safe for ‘er; knowed ya’d take care of ‘er.” It had been a long time since he’d felt anything for another person, and Kaleb had been surprised by his feelings of concern for the girl. He had thought his gentler feelings had been buried with Mary.

“It weren’t wrong to leave ‘er with ya, were I?” Kaleb needed to assure himself that he had not been wrong in his judgement of the Bear, that Linsey was safe and happy. If he found out differently, Kaleb had decided to offer to take her home when the snows melted.

Bear stopped walking and stared down at the older man. The look on his face would have made a lesser man step back. Kaleb held his ground.

“She is … fine.”

Kaleb saw Bear’s expression and easily read it. He smothered a chuckle and turned his glittering gaze to the distance. “Figgered ya’d be lonely, winterin’ by yourself after havin’ me fer com’any last year.”

Bear answered with a grunt and starting walking again.

“Yes siree, there ain’t nothin’ like a spunky little ole gal to warm a cabin in winter.” Kaleb liked the sense of satisfaction he felt. Bear’s expression would have been intimidating to another man, but he saw the fleeting look in Bear’s eyes. Yep, Kaleb decided silently, come spring he doubted the little gal’d be going anywhere.

They walked quietly for a few minutes before he began to tell Bear the other reason he was coming to search him out, to warn him about Zeke. Kaleb had searched for him, but with snow covering any tracks, it had been useless. Zeke could be holed up somewhere or buried in a snowdrift. But until he was found, Kaleb would not rest.

Before he could finish his tale, Bear had turned and begun retracing his steps. He lengthened his pace until it was just short of a run. From experience he knew that he could maintain the mile-eating stride for hours without tiring. He had to get back to Linsey. He had left her without protection, and a haunting premonition shadowed each of his steps.

Kaleb stayed with Bear for a short way, then let the younger man go on alone. He would get to the cabin … just not as quickly.

Linsey poured the last kettle of warm water into the tub and sighed with relief. Quickly removing Bear’s shirt, she stepped in and knelt down. When she’d casually commented that she was tired of sponge baths, Bear had brought in a big barrel. He’d worked for days to cut it in half and smooth the rough edges. She had to sit with her knees folded beneath her or bent almost under her chin, but it felt incredibly good after weeks without a real bath.

She had already washed her hair, disgusted with herself when she discovered the flour in it. With it clean and almost dry, she pulled it on top of her head and fastened it with some wooden pins Bear had carved for her.

Bear had told her how he took baths nightly during the summer in the rapidly flowing creek out back of the cabin, where even on the hottest days the water was cool. Linsey thought the idea intriguing; she’d never bathed outside before, and it would certainly be easier than melting the endless buckets of snow to fill the tub. It had taken her all morning to heat enough water to wash her hair, and then she had started the process all over again to take a bath. Linsey grimaced, an entire day spent on nothing but getting clean!

As she thought of her many trips outside, Linsey looked toward the door. It was firmly closed, but she had forgotten to replace the heavy bar. The warm water lapped around her stomach, and it seemed too much effort to climb out of the tub. Deciding to leave the door until she was finished, she applied a generous amount of the flowery soap to her shoulders, liking the fragrance it left on her skin. She would have to ask Morning Moon how it was made. Maybe in the spring… .

At the thought of spring, Linsey’s hands slowed their movements, dropping to her knees. In the spring, Bear would take her back to Philadelphia. She would not need to know how to make soap or anything else for that matter. There were more than enough servants to see to her needs and several establishments in which to buy pretty, molded soaps from Europe.

She would never see Morning Moon’s new baby or listen to Chattering Squirrel’s confusing gab. Her eyes slowly filled with tears, and she knew that once he left her on her doorstep, she would never again see Bear.

She loved him. Linsey had never known a man could be so gentle.

He had told her of his past and of future plans. With considerable patience, he had taught her how to do the many things she did not know how to do. He had laughed with her, never at her, and seemed to understand her fears almost before she could express them.

He had taken her to the world of their own when they became lovers, understanding her shyness and giving her time to accept her own role in this glorious new thing he’d shown her.

Absently, Linsey rinsed the soap from her shoulders. How could she leave him to return to Philadelphia? Yet, how could she ask Bear to let her stay? He had a life of his own; perhaps he wouldn’t want the inconvenience of providing for her. Never in his plans for the future had he mentioned a wife and family.

A tear fell to the water, making a barely discernible splash. Linsey closed her eyes as the pain of parting sent bitter chills of hopelessness through her.

Lost in her torment, she was startled as the door opened and a never to be forgotten voice grated harshly through the silence.

“Jebby?”

Standing framed in the door, Zeke’s maniacal gaze wildly searched the room. The days spent alone in the wilderness had sent him teetering on the brink of insanity. He had survived the first two snow storms only because he had stumbled onto a deserted lean-to. He had waited there for Jeb to find him until hunger finally drove him out of the shelter. For the last few days, he had wandered mindlessly, crossing and re-crossing his own trail, sleeping where he fell when darkness came, eating little, and at times forgetting why he was lost and for whom he searched, surviving beyond all reason.

Zeke had not realized that he had crossed the frozen river and was following the trail toward Bear’s cabin. When he saw the structure sitting dark against the snow, his irrationality told him Jeb was inside.

His gaunt frame had never carried excess weight, but now Zeke was emaciated. His coat appeared too heavy to be supported by his scrawny body as he stumbled into the room, bringing with him an odor of decay.

“Jebby? Zeke’s here, Jebby.” His eyes moved around the room, finally coming to rest on the naked girl in the tub. His brow wrinkled as he tried to concentrate.

“Girlie?” His brow cleared, and he smiled. “Girlie! Zeke’s purty girlie!”

His happiness at seeing someone he recognized was pitiful. He came toward her, skeletal fingers outstretched. Long icicles hung from his beard and hair. His hands and parts of his face were a ghostly white, showing signs of advanced frostbite.

As he reached for her, Linsey jumped up, more revolted than ever at the thought of being touched by him. She stepped out of the tub, backing away.

Zeke stopped, looking confused. “Where’s Jebby, girlie?” he whined.

Linsey’s mind whirled frantically. Zeke seemed almost harmless, pathetically lost and bewildered. He didn’t even seem to see her nakedness. But what would happen once he finally realized Jeb was not here? During their trip into the wilderness, she had seen his moods fluctuate with a blink of the eye from one to another and then back again. She slowly edged toward the table and the knife lying there, never taking her gaze away from Zeke.